


cinnamon bone (bitter name on the wall)

by the_cosmos_lonely (dheiress)



Series: and then they were all eldritch horrors (oh god, they were all eldritch horrors) [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Body Horror, Eldritch, Eyes, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spiders, Surrealism, no beta we die like archive assistants, the unholy offspring of soulmate identifying marks AUs and Eldritch Horrors AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24602764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dheiress/pseuds/the_cosmos_lonely
Summary: You're not supposed to pull it out, Martin knows, but he has heard of what happens if your mark hasn't emerged by the time you turn eight, the little dead things that oozes out of the wrist, the red line of the soulmark closing into a gray scar of what could have been.(Jon is reading a book when it happens. It's such a gentle pain, unnoticeable really, he only becomes aware of it because some of the blood drops onto the page he's reading.)((A soulmate identifying marks AU very specific to TMA; i.e. the marks are symbols of the fears your soulmate is marked/aligned with))
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: and then they were all eldritch horrors (oh god, they were all eldritch horrors) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756762
Comments: 40
Kudos: 209





	cinnamon bone (bitter name on the wall)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Cinnamon Bone by Eliza Rickman.
> 
> WARNINGS: Body Horror, Blood, Eyes in places where there shouldn't be eyes, Spiders growing in places spiders shouldn't grow.
> 
> 20/06/09 edit: minor phrases that made me cringe

Martin coos at his wrist, the ever widening slit trembling at his bated breathes, any moment now, he thinks, any moment now, it will crack open, push at his skin and flesh to reveal a hint on who is it that he will love the most and will love him in turn, any moment now and Martin will have his assurance, not that he needed any, that there is someone out there just for him, for him to love and be loved back in turn. 

  
Any moment now.

  
The clock strikes ten and Martin finds his teeth worrying his lips, his vision blurry and cheeks damp with tears, and it's okay, it's fine, he's still seven years old, he's not eight yet, there's still time, please there's still time for the mark to emerge.

  
"Please," he whispers, he begs, to the quivering split of the flesh on his wrist, there must be someone, someone just for him, he couldn't be destined to be alone, right, he couldn't be-

  
The clock says it's eleven o'clock now and he can't help the whimper that escapes him, can't help but press his right thumb into his left wrist, digging slightly, trying to feel the thing wriggling inside. You're not supposed to pull it out, Martin knows, it must be waited out but he has heard of what happens if your mark hasn't emerged by the time you turn eight, the little dead things that oozes out of the flesh of your wrist, the red line of the soulmark closing into a gray scar of what could have been.

  
But, his is still alive, he knows it with every fibre of his being, it's just shy, Martin can prod it out, he has a soulmate, he just needs to be patient. He pushes his thumb deeper into his wrist, willing it to break open and-

  
"Oh," Martin breaths, relief drowning him because look, there it is, a drop of blood oozing out of the edge of his mark then a beady little eye stares at him from the small hole the droplet leaves in its wake. The skin on his wrist squirms and budges like restless rolling hills until eight glossy little eyes are looking up at him from a furry face, furry claws slowly rising up into hairy limbs pushing and parting his flesh into a red smile on his wrist.

  
"Hello," he cries, it's more painful than he thought it would be but it's alright, the black spider his flesh has taken form as his soulmark waves its legs at him as if apologising.

  
_Hello, Martin._

  
(Jon is reading a book when it happens. His mark has already swelled a week before, right on the hour of his seventh birthday, like a soft quail's egg rolling under his skin that had his grandmother tutting over it, "That's going to pop soon. Always take a towel with you, boy, or you'll be spilling blood all over the house."

  
It's such a gentle pain, unnoticeable really, he only becomes aware of it because some of the blood drops onto the page he's reading, and Jon watches in wonder as his mark slowly blinks open to reveal an eye, the skin around it stretching then collapsing into makeshift eyelids, squinting at the light from his lamp. His soulmark blinks the blood away, a thin trail of fog replacing the viscera, a stream of haze not unlike tears, that chills and numbs his skin.

  
Bringing his wrist closer, Jon inspects his soulmark of an eye and fog, sees its pupil dilating, the void steadily creeping into the amber iris flecked with green and blue and dark brown spots. Short, thick hair slowly grows at the seams of the mark, little eyelashes fluttering up at him shyly, as Jon watches the fog swirling around his wrist.

  
He thinks of wrapping the mark with the towel his grandmother has given him but decides against it in the end.

  
Turning back to his book, Jon holds it open with his right hand, angling his left wrist to face the pages and to accompany him in his reading.)

**Author's Note:**

> No, this is not the Anastasia AU I promised last time.


End file.
